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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27043021">Cousin Rivalry</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_squared/pseuds/pr_squared'>pr_squared</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales of the Hunt [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>No Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Hunters &amp; Hunting, Woman on Top, meat paradox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:01:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27043021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_squared/pseuds/pr_squared</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff"><p>Another of my old tales - first written 20 years ago</p></div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales of the Hunt [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970527</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Hunnting Permit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Another of my old tales - first written 20 years ago</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Life is like a roller coaster, Ashley thought.  She had cheered so enthusiastically when her mother won the lottery and qualified them for their long-anticipated hunting permit.  She had really looked forward to spending several days in the field alone with Granny, Auntie Kim and her mother.  She would be the very first of her cousins to join their elders on a jack hunt.  Four years before, her mother, Aunt, and Granny had last won a permit, but she had been just twelve years old and too young to hunt.  This time, she was finally old enough but so was her bratty cousin, Cassie. Auntie Kim’s older daughter had herself just turned 14. However, Cassie couldn’t go this year because the party was limited to four and Ashley was older.</p><p>Then Ashley learned to her disappointment that Granny had unexpected business obligations in the city and could not hunt this year after all.  Cousin Cassie quickly volunteered to take her place and no one objected.  No one asked Ashley’s opinion.  Her mom and Auntie Kim her sister so wanted Ashley and Cassie to be friends.  However, they had not gotten along very well from the time when  Ashley was six and Cassie were 4 years old.  Cassie had played with Ashley’s livestock truck and bitten the pricks off of all of her plastic jacks.  Cassie may have forgotten all about it but Ashley never had.</p><p>Despite Cassie, Ashley’s excitement grew. Auntie Kim had rented a cottage right in the preserve, so that they might get an early start and waste no time traveling back and forth from a motel. The cottage even had indoor toilets and hot running water.  Ashley waxed the string on her crossbow and adjusted its sites.  She began to devote several hours a week to practice her archery. </p><p>Then, two nights before the hunt, Ashley felt a cold coming on.  She drank two glasses of orange juice and took vitamin C and zinc oxide tablets in hopes that she hasten her recovery.   However, in the morning, she was clearly worse.  Aching bones and stuffy head aside, Ashley was determined to hunt and even more determined that Cassie – ever smiling, always bubbling Cassie - would not hunt while she stayed home and nursed a damned virus.</p><p>Auntie Kim and Cassie picked up Ashley and her mother, Jill, on the day before the Hunt for the long ride out to Red Lake Reservoir.  Red Lake, named for the fiery reflection of the autumn oak leaves on its placid water, served as the regional 5-county site for the annual Hunt.</p><p>Ashley felt terrible and the car ride made it worse.  She popped decongestants and ibuprofens, while Cassie asked again and again why Ashley had insisted on coming if she was so sick.  Cassie slid across the back seat and pressed herself against the door to maximize the distance between them.  She hoped to decrease her risks of infection. Every time Ashley coughed or sneezed, Cassie looked at her with disgust and warned aloud that Ashley would make them all deathly sick, over and over again.  Alternatively, she voiced her fear that Ashley would cough at the wrong moment and scare away any quarry.  </p><p>Again and again, Ashley protested that she only had a cold.  She really didn’t have bubonic plague – although she admitted to herself that she felt like it.  She prayed that she would be better in the morning.</p><p>Ashley’s mother, Jill, Cassie, and Auntie Kim unpacked all of their gear and laid it out on the kitchen table, ready for an early start in the morning. Auntie Kim showed Ashley the permit with her name on it.  Desperate to improve by the next morning, Ashley drank hot tea and honey, loaded up on decongestants and on the last of her bottle of ibuprofen, and turned in early.</p><p>However, Ashley felt even worse in the morning, if such might be imagined. She awoke so congested that she could hardly breath.  Her clammy nightshirt clung to her perspiring body.  Her damp hair hung limply, plastered to the sides of her face.</p><p>Cassie taunted that Ashley looked so hideous; her appearance alone would frighten away any jack who saw her.  Even Auntie Kim worried aloud that Ashley’s cough or even her noisy breathing might give them away to their quarry.  Finally, Ashley herself admitted that grit and determination were simply not enough.  She simply would not be able to hunt.  Four full years might pass before their names came up in the lottery and she got another chance.</p><p>Cassie, of course, then asked why Ashley had insisted on coming at all.  Any one of her friends would have very much enjoyed hunting in her place. “An utter waste, a selfish waste,” Cassie said, quite unabashed and as sure as always of herself.  Ashley’s mother and Auntie Kim were a bit more understanding.  Her mother had even volunteered to stay at the cottage with her.  </p><p>	Ashley insisted bravely that she wasn’t all that sick and urged the three to get the early start they wanted.  Her mother offered to stay with her once again, but finally surrendered to Ashley’s repeated assurances. She and Ashley had cellular phones and could easily keep in touch. Auntie Kim told Ashley that she had another bottle of ibuprofens in the glove compartment and left her the car keys. </p><p>“Be careful,” Ashley admonished.  Every year, accidents happened during hunting season. Women traipsed through the wood carrying deadly weapons.  Hunters fell from elevated blinds or mistook each other for game.  Jacks could be dangerous too.  In keeping with the well known male enthusiasm for violence, some tried even to assault the hunters using found weapons like tree branches, lost arrows, and stones.  Hunting in groups was much safer and preferred.  Once, the story went, the jacks at Tall Pines Reserve had banded together to attack the hunters en mass.  The hunters made a stand and the Rangers suspended bag limits and extended the hours of the Hunt through the night.  Every single jack released was taken on that very first day.  Many were taken within minutes and those able to flee were tracked down relentlessly through the night and all were dead by the next morning.</p><p>“You be careful, too,” her mother responded.  </p><p>Auntie Kim looked and looked.  She just couldn’t find her good-luck knife –an old, beaten up, pitted by corrosion, and blackened blade that somehow held the keenest edge of all her knives.  She knew that she had brought it from Granny’s house. Granny and her Granny before her had always brought it with them and used it to gut and skin all of their jacks. She never once had come home empty handed  - except the one time she had forgotten to bring it along.  Kim knew she had brought it, but she just couldn’t find the elusive thing. They had unpacked the car in a rush and no one was quite sure who had put what where.  Jill, Cassie, and even Ashley looked but no one could find it.  Finally, Auntie Kim just gave up.  They quickly readied their crossbows, strapped on their quivers, and set out before the first horn.  Kim settled for the brand-new Janie knife that her sister, Jill, had given her for Christmas.</p><p>Ashley looked longingly at her gear, now sitting all alone on the table.  She caressed the dark wood of the richly finished wooden stock of her crossbow lovingly and nocked a bolt, almost out of reflex.  Then she checked and rechecked the safety and regretfully, just laid it back on the table, loaded.  Its mere presence taunted her with her long anticipated, missed opportunity to hunt. Finally, she just threw her old sweatshirt over it so that she would not have to look at the damned thing any more.  She looked to have a quiet day to herself at least – with no Cassie.  She went out to the car to get more ibuprofen and went back to sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Mike</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This year, Mike looked forward to the Hunt with a certain exhilaration.  By some unlikely combination of skill and luck, he had survived the two previous years and now stood three days away from freedom.  He had to survive three more 10 hour, 8 AM to 6 PM sessions and then he would earn most of the rights of citizenship. Statistically, someone has to survive and it might as well be me, he thought.</p><p>He had been through it all twice before. On the first day, just enough jacks were released to achieve a density of about 5 per square mile.  Rangers left ration packets and water bottles at various stations throughout the preserve.   The ‘food’ was nourishing but tasteless.  The enthusiasm of teenage for food rivaled their legendary enthusiasm for violence.  Some hunters even spread more appetizing treats in front of their blinds as bait.  It was known to have worked.</p><p>For a jack, the hunt had two modes.  First, you hid.  You tried to watch from hiding and move surreptitiously to keep from being spotted.  Second, once spotted, you just fled.  Few women could run down a fleeing jack and even fewer could hit a moving target.</p><p>However, women usually worked in teams. A well-organized team of well-conditioned hunters could eventually run down a jack.    Running down a jack was hard work, but it could be done.  Working in relays, they could eventually close with an exhausted male and earn a sure shot. Alternatively, some members of a team might work as beaters, to drive a jack into their partners’ sites.  Statistically, a jack’s greatest danger was to flee from one hunter and blunder unknowingly into a second hunter’s field of fire.</p><p>Hiding and slipping away had a particular rhythm.  In his first year, Mike once spotted a hunter and prepared with slip away unseen as he had many times before.  Fortunately, he somehow spotted a second hunter, well hidden in her blind right in the area where he had intended to flee.  In the end, he just hunkered down, the first hunter passed him by, and no one saw him.</p><p>In his second year, he teamed up with Billy again.  Each watched the other’s back.  They were moving cautiously away from one hunter when they blundered into another party. Arrows flew this way and that and they abandoned any pretense of concealment. They just fled.  The hunters followed Billy and Mike escaped unscathed. When the final horn sounded and he returned through the staging area, he searched for Billy’s face among the scores of gutted carcasses.</p><p>Finally, he found Billy hanging head down from a stout tree branch. His unseeing eyes seemed to stare blankly into space. His face had sort of a comical expression. His torso was open from groin to throat and the white of his spine bones glistened opalescent against the dark red of his muscles.  His male parts were nowhere in evidence. </p><p>Three women stood around the fire – roasting chunks of liver on pointed sticks. Organ meat is best eaten fresh.  They laughed when one burned her tongue on the sizzling meat and then another scorched her finger when she tested her own piece.  </p><p>Mike thought that he recognized at least one of them. No one seemed recognize him at all.  Good-naturedly, they offered him a chilled wine cooler.</p><p>One, a tall brunet, grabbed a blanket and half-cajoled and half dragged him into a secluded copse of trees. From the hastily roasted flesh, her hands were greasy on his body and her mouth tasted of the seared liver.  She wanted him, though, and he answered her wanting with a lust of his own. “Find ‘em, fuck, flay ‘em, and fillet ‘em,” she called out to her friends.</p><p>He lay naked under her as she straddled him. The teeth of her zipper bit into his thigh and drew blood, leaving a thin scratch. Once upon a time, he had seen in a porno magazine, people as well as boys took off their clothes to have sex.  Amidst all this death, his own ardor surprised him. He attributed his enthusiasm simply and unashamedly to his simple gratitude to be alive. </p><p>Mike had had a novel idea on the third day.  A number of cottages stood in-bounds on the edge of the preserve.  In the morning, hunters marched to the hunt headquarters at the staging center and signed in.  On this first leg, they were not yet allowed to shoot anything and had little interest in a jack who was lying carefully hidden nearby.  After registration, all headed out into the field.  Mike found a good hiding spot near the cottages and watched them leave, then checked out their cottages and helped himself and. The food in the refrigerators was much better than those Park Service food packets. He would try hiding in the hunters' cabins next year.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. When It Changed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Revolution that began in 2016 in response to President Jeb Bush, the brother of George W Bush, of the one-term Bush family (sic).  He won narrowly in the Electoral College but gained no more than one-third of the popular vote.  Inaugurated in 2013, he quickly set about fulfilling his campaign promise and totally banned abortion. </p><p>“Register babies, not Barettas,” his supporters chanted.  “Abortionists kill people, guns don’t!” screamed their placards. </p><p>In response to concerns about dangerous back-alley procedures, he and his enthusiastic bureaucracy instituted mandatory fortnightly pregnancy screening for all menstruating females.  Congress was paralyzed by its usual hypocrisy.  No one wanted to be called pro-abortion.  Three days late for her tests and a woman found that her credit and ATM cards stopped working.  Seven days late and the cards set off alarms, rousing store security and summoning the police.  Loss of a pregnancy necessitated a medical inquest. Women who had had abortions were called accomplices and tried for murder along with their practitioners. </p><p>With the support of the Supreme Court, he suspended elections in 2016, calling them divisive and unhelpful.  He pointed out past irregularities and vast inconsistencies in electoral practice across the country.  He appointed Chief Justice Katherine Harris to head up a blue-ribbon select task force to explore reform and started the so-called Long Senate whose first act was the expulsion of Senator Hillary Clinton from New York. </p><p>“You wouldn’t do this to your grandmother,” she admonished them.</p><p>“I thank God every day that you’re not my grandmother,” someone retorted sharply but anonymously. Its second act was the dissolution of the Democrat controlled House of Representatives.  </p><p>Tensions built and finally, violence erupted.  Evie Adams, a Missouri woman and mother of three children, was condemned to death for having an abortion.  Even her husband testified against her, pleading that he had nothing at all to do with her despicable act.  He had a drinking problem, he admitted, but he wasn’t drunk all the time.  And if he didn’t want to work, why had he had so many different jobs.  He had hit her, he confessed with obvious remorse, but he hadn’t drawn blood  and he never broke anything.  </p><p>Many rose to her defense although she said little for herself.  She was a very poor self-advocate.  Her sadness and ambivalence were apparent to all who saw her.  Pleas for clemency were met charges of soft headedness.  Pleas for pardon were ignored. Letters of condemnation arrived from Saudi Arabia and Singapore.  The Israelis and Palestinians signed a joint declaration.</p><p>Media gathered at John Ashcroft State Prison to televise the execution. The value of commercial time soared to equal Super Bowl rates. All of America and much of the world watched at home. On the first day, Dr. Joseph Roberts was executed.   Minutes before the scheduled second lethal injection on the second day, prison guards, men and woman both mutinied and freed Ms Adams from Death Row right in front of the cameras.  Many guards surrendered to the mutineers.  The some guards made a show of resistance and were quickly overcome.  A few resisted in earnest and were shot down.  </p><p>The Army was sent in.  Most units were mixed, comprised of men and women both.  Although women were a distinct minority, the women generally had more education than the men and a higher percentage held leadership positions.  Some units promptly joined the mutineers, while others refused to fire on fellow Americans.  A few did fire and the more numerous, well-armed, and well-trained mutineers fired back. All of America and much of the world watched at home.</p><p>The Revolution ended two years later with surprisingly few overt battles and little loss of life.  The female leadership that emerged was different from the traditional feminist elite.  It was less ideological, less well dressed, and less concerned with seeming ‘nice.’  It was more practical and more ruthless.  It had tasted power and was loath to lose what had been won after so long a struggle. </p><p>The surviving male leaders were stripped naked, marched up to the top of the Washington Monument and thrown off. Their female accomplices were imprisoned.   The Washington Monument itself was then demolished as a hated symbol of male oppression.  The rubble was left where it fell. The area was cordoned off and the site – now fenced - was solemnly rededicated in memory of the female victims of the millennia of patriarchal terror.</p><p>In the aftermath of the Revolution, women discovered that a simple reduction in male numbers had finally ended war and markedly diminished violent crime. The challenge for the new order here was to restrain male numbers in the face of the male birth fraction and women's vast sentimentality. The Hunt was the first answer.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Ashley</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mike found the cellular phone as soon as he walked though the unlocked door. He smashed it gleefully with his heavy stick, then rifled quickly through the drawers and promptly found a wicked-looking knife to replace his crude tree branch.  The blade was old, but very sharp.  It was corroded and blackened with age but the vanadium steel edge was keenly honed. He grinned at the bitter irony of his possession of an implement likely used to butcher a fair number of his brothers.  The cottage remained still. As he guessed, no one was around. </p><p>Growing in confidence, Mike next examined the refrigerator. He was hungry – very hungry.  Young men are always hungry.  The refrigerator was rather large for such a small, intermittently used dwelling.  Employing an energy saving design, the cooling mechanism was on top. Three doors faced him.  On his left, a single narrower door stretched from bottom to top.  On his right, the wider panel had a smaller upper panel and a larger lower panel.</p><p>He opened the smaller, upper right-sided door first and found the freezer compartment.  Hunters might well want to freeze their butchered jack, before bringing him home. Fortunately, the freezer held no cuts of jacques neatly wrapped in butcher paper - as of yet.  He found only several bags of ice, a frozen pizza, and a pack of ice cream sandwiches.   He grabbed an ice cream sandwich in his free hand.  His left hand clutched the knife and more than once, he turned to face shifting shadows.</p><p>He tried to guess the purpose of the high, left sided compartment.  He stated at the door and thought for a long moment.  Suddenly, its utilitarian function jumped into his mind.  The chamber provided a temperature and humidity controlled locker for hanging a jack prior to butchering.  Actually, the locker might even accommodate two jacks.  Driven by a curiosity tempered by a certain trepidation, he opened the door and to his relief, found nothing inside except a diagram that clearly explained its purpose. Here a jack might best be hung feet down like a heavy winter overcoat with his arms hanging limply at his sides by a cord looped through his mouth and nose.</p><p>Next he turned his attention to the main refrigerator compartment.  He opened the door and found milk, orange juice, and leftovers from breakfast.  He jammed the half-eaten ice cream sandwich in his mouth and picked through the refrigerator’s contents gleefully.</p><p>Ashley felt like a brand new person after her shower.  The hot steam had cleared her head and blanched the last symptoms of illness from her body.  After she had turned the water off, Ashley stood in the shower stall as long as she could, luxuriating in the moist heat.  When the air around her eventually cooled, she reached for her towel and found none on the rack.  She had simply forgotten.  Shaking her head at her own lack of foresight, she padded stark naked out of the small bathroom to find a towel.</p><p>She entered into the common room when to her complete and utter surprise, she saw a large, jack standing with his back to her and his head buried deep in the refrigerator.  His posture accentuated his high, tight buttocks and the long muscles of his back.  The fullness of his plump ball sac was just visible between his muscular thighs.  His attractive appearance almost overcame her awareness that something was desperately wrong.  A boy just shouldn’t be in her cottage.  Then she saw the knife that he held in his left hand and quailed.  Peopled by a decade of education, a gruesome parade of male brutality flashed before her eyes. However, this was today and these things were not supposed to happen anymore.  She was afraid and she did not like the feeling, not at all. She could no longer control herself.  She stood poised on the edge of panic.  Her sharp intake of breath was clearly audible.</p><p>Mike heard the sound and turned.  The remnant of his ice-cream sandwich protruded half-eaten from his mouth, its frigid cold made his teeth hurt.  He held a bag of bread in his right hand, but in his left hand, he held the deadly knife.  He saw the smaller woman immediately – a girl really.  She was naked and her eyes betrayed her fear. Mike relished his sudden and unexpected mastery. Does this a little bitch really expect to kill me, he marveled.  She and her kind have reduced us to animals to be exploited for their pleasure or profit; they strip the skins from our bodies and the flesh from our bones. They hunt us and keep us in pens like beasts for the slaughter.  He almost choked on his rage.</p><p>Ashley saw the knife – her own Granny’s old good luck knife - and the wildly raging anger in his burning eyes.  She saw the two earrings dangling from his left ear that marked him as a stag, a male who had survived two hunts. She wanted to scream, but she could not.  She could hardly breathe. Her fear was paralyzing.  She felt very naked and horrifyingly vulnerable, although in reality, she was no more naked than he.</p><p>He looked at her fiercely and smiled gloriously when she visibly cowered. He saw her dread and literally glowed in triumph. Horror twisted her features.  She looked as if she might break down and cry at any moment, as if her tears might win her any sympathy. Mike savored his unexpected mastery and gloated.   He could do anything to her that he chose.  He could rape her mouth until she choked on his cock.  He could fuck her cunt or fuck her ass until she bled and then make her thank him for his trouble.  He hefted the razor sharp knife in his hand.  He could even carve his name on her smooth skin in block letters.  He could even carve a new opening in her compliant belly.</p><p>Perhaps motivated by some atavistic vestige of female modesty or perhaps as an unconscious invocation of some ancient female power, Ashley’s left hand rose quickly, first to cover her small breasts and then to slide slowly down her body to shield her sex from the boy’s violating stare. </p><p>He had intended to rush her.  He was more than twice her weight.  His knife could work real artistry in her soft, yielding flesh.  However, her hand moved and he stopped, ensorcelled, like a deer in the headlights or a bird by a snake. Her gesture contained no hint of threat, nothing to deter him from his violence.  However, constrained by some irresistible force, Michael just stopped and watched.  His gaze followed her damned petite hand, first to the modest swells of her pert breasts, down her invitingly sweet belly, over the luscious roundness of her hip to the moist thatch of hair between her well-shaped thighs. Feeling suddenly ridiculous, he spit out the ice-cream and let it fall to the floor. Her vulnerability and femininity had somehow transformed his consuming rage to lust.</p><p>Ashley looked at the boy who stood before her and gradually seized control of her panic.  His size alone was more than intimidating. The bulky angularity of his male form contrasted with her own slender, rounded female form.  The coarse hairiness of his body contrasted with her own sleek smoothness and betrayed his inarguable kinship with the bestial. His thick, rampant sex betrayed his venal intentions.</p><p>Ashley had learned of a time when a single male could intimidate a dozen healthy, conventionally sane women with his size, strength, and eagerness for violence. That time was gone.  Of all his trespasses, he had made her afraid, and she would not forgive him for that. Like dinosaurs, males had had their age and now it was over and done.  Her right hand moved quickly to the sweatshirt on the table. </p><p>Mike thought that she meant to retrieve the shirt to cover her nakedness – her shame - they had called it in the old days – his friends had whispered when no one could overhear.  He opened his mouth and laughed aloud.  Instead, her trembling hand slipped quickly under the sweatshirt to grab the stock of the crossbow, lying cocked and ready.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Family that Preys Together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Another old tale- likely drafted 20 years and three computers ago.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ashley’s bolt entered his gaping mouth had smashed through the base of his skull. Laughter died in this throat and he collapsed in a heap, still breathing faintly.  Ashley quickly retrieved the knife that had fallen from his limp grasp and kicked it safely out of reach.  Quickly, she reloaded her crossbow, then stood and watched him nervously. He still was breathing.  Never taking her eyes from the jack, she awkwardly pulled on her sweat pants and shirt and covered her nakedness.  She thought to cut his throat but didn’t want him to bleed all over the floor.  She kicked his leg and he stirred weakly.  He was too heavy for her to manage by herself.  She could only wait.  So she waited and jumped with his every groan and feeble motion.  Grimly, she put off nature’s increasingly urgent call.</p><p>The jack that her mother and Auntie Kim had brought home last time had already been gutted.  His sex parts were nowhere in evidence.  Ashley remembered Auntie Kim working to saw off the his head with her old hacksaw.  Sweat flew from her brow and her mom promised her an electric saw for next time. </p><p>This jack was different.  His thick sex was very much in evidence.  He stirred and flopped back onto his back, exposing his sex like a pale sausage and exposing his fat balls underneath.   Cautiously, Ashley prodded his sex with her foot.  She wondered just how his cock and balls would feel, hard, soft, or rubbery.  She touched him and he jerked.  She jumped backwards, falling on her seat.  She laughed at her clumsiness. After that movement, he was completely still.  She could not tell if he were breathing.</p><p>Ashley was really relieved when her mom, Auntie Kim, and Cassie returned.  She seized the opportunity and disappeared briefly into the bathroom.  Her mom had tried calling her and insisted that they return when no one answered.  They looked quite worried when they greeted her.  They had come back empty-handed.  Cassie was loaded and ready to accuse Ashley of ruining her day when she saw the stag lying on the common room floor.  Her attitude quickly changed for the better. </p><p>"Well, let's get this bugger hung," said Jill, when her excited daughter returned to tell her story.  Auntie Kim shared in their glee. For once, Cassie had nothing to say.  She even wanted a close look at Ashley’s jack.  He didn’t look all that frightening now.</p><p>The boy did not move at all when they dragged him outside.   He did not make a sound.  The tail of the bolt protruded almost comically from his mouth, an obviously lethal wound </p><p>Pinching a fold of the solid flesh of his bare loin, Jill said, "He’s really a beauty, Ashley.  Lot’s of good eating.  Not too scrawny and not too fat, either.” Her pinch failed to elicit any reaction from the mortally-wounded boy. </p><p>Auntie Kim opened her brand-new kit and checked the diagram once and again.  She examined the rope and the applicator carefully and passed the rope through the applicator experimentally.  “Here we go, “ She said with a certain degree of determination.  First, she flicked the end of his glans with her index finger.  When this elicited no response, she felt briefly for a femoral pulse.  Feeling nothing through the thick muscle of his thigh, she jammed the cardboard applicator tube into his right nostril.  Next, she fed the fluorescent orange rope through the applicator until she could see it glowing in the back of his mouth.</p><p>Suddenly, he awoke.  Cassie screamed and even Auntie Kim jumped back, before controlling her fear and attending to business.  His feeble efforts to turn his head away were completely ineffectual.  He closed his mouth and tried to turn his head away but Auntie Kim used the crossbow bolt as a lever to drag his head back to the front and pry his mouth open.  Using the long-handled plastic hook, she fished to rope from the back of his throat despite his meager efforts to close his mouth again.  She ignored the messy blood and mucus on the free end of the rope and inserted it through the loop on the rope’s other end. “There!” she said.  Then she pulled the loop taut and handed the rope to her sister, Jill.   </p><p>Jill threw the rope over a beam of the carport and they all pulled together to hang the jack. He was damned heavy.  Even Cassie helped and then they backed away. </p><p>Auntie Kim shook her head chagrinned.  “I really thought that he was dead.  I really did.”  The jack kicked out, but his feet did not quite reach the ground.  He flailed his arms about to no purpose. With newly found strength, he reached up and grabbed the rope but succeeded only briefly.</p><p>“He’s so big!” Cassie said with honest admiration. The women just waited for his thrashing to abate.  No one wanted to get within his reach. Soon he hung like a gaffed fish and watched the women helplessly through eyes open wide with terror. </p><p>Cautiously, Auntie Kim felt for the pulse in his groin, and then she cut deep with Granny’s old pitted blade.  Blood spurted then gushed and covered her hand.  Blood ran down his leg like a red pants leg and pooled on the ground beneath.  He seemed to have gallons of blood.  He shuddered once, then shook, then shuddered again and then was still.  The flow slowed, then ceased.  The jack’s eyes then stared blankly.</p><p>“He sure has lots of blood,” Cassie offered.  Auntie Kim opened the cut with her fingers to encourage the last of the bleeding. </p><p>“Should we save the blood like Granny does?” Jill asked. “When she sticks them, they bleed out more slowly.”</p><p>"Granny’s not here this year.  I wish she were too.  Opening the – what is it -  the femoral artery and vein - bleeds them out quickly.  It seems somehow more humane," said Auntie Kim. Ashley thought that Auntie Kim might tie his cock in a knot, but she found that she just hadn’t enough raw material.  Instead, she slipped a loop of twine around his penis and yanked it tight, expressing her dislike of her sister’s criticism. </p><p>"Well, I guess it’s okay if all you’re doing is butchering them for their meat,” said Jill.  “Mom prides herself that we waste absolutely nothing, if it isn't eaten, we wear it. We even ground up their bones for bone meal.  Remember her peonies! One of my favorites was her blood sausage – yummy. " </p><p>At their last hunt, they had no facilities. They gutted their jack in the field and brought him home and then skinned and butchered him.  The skin helped keep the carcass clean. This year, they had good facilities and chose to flay him immediately, both to speed cooling and to prevent off- tastes from sweat glands to damage the meat. Prompt butchering would also speed cooling and preserve the quality of the meat, although some argued that a carcass was best hung until rigor mortis had come and gone and the meat had stretched on the bone.</p><p>Next, Auntie Kim rotated the carcass and spread the meaty roundels of his buttocks and cut a deep circle around his anus. Reaching in, she grabbed the slippery bowel and freed it up from its attachments. She pulled the bloody tube back through her opening and tied it tightly with a second length of twine. "There that's to keep things neat and clean," she sighed, glad the unpleasant part was over.  She washed her hands and tools vigorously before she proceeded.</p><p>As Ashley talked, Auntie Kim picked up her favorite skinning knife and went to work. With the razor sharp blade she cut circles around his wrists and ankles and then made a shallow cut all the way around his neck. Next, she spread his meaty buttocks and cut a two inch circle around his anus.  Then starting at the ankles, she slit the skin on the inside of his legs to from ankle to groin.  Then, she carefully peeled the skin from his legs, using mostly the dull edge of her knife.  It was like peeling a banana.  She reserved the sharp edge to free the skin from it sub-surface attachments at various locations. She treated his arms similarly, Then she made a long shallow cut from his throat down to the end of his penis.  She severed the attachments under his nipples and carefully flayed his penis with a delicate hand,. Soon she had his skin free and in one piece. The remaining pale skin of his feet, hand, face, ball sac, and the circle around his anus, contrasted sharply with the deep blood-red of his cleanly flayed carcass. </p><p>Picking up the intact skin, she carefully inspected her handiwork before dumping it into the waiting tub of brine.  Properly dressed, man-skin was soft and pliable and took colors well.  This skin belonged to Ashley who had taken her first jack. </p><p>Next she cut off his balls with no particular ceremony and made a deep cut all the way around his beefy red flayed cock.  Tenting the inner abdominal membrane just above his pubic area, Auntie Kim started a shallow cut that effectively opened his torso from groin to neck. She reached up and opened his throat.  She tied off his windpipe and food tube and then reached behind and freed his organs from their attachments.  Although, she had to cut around his diaphragm, his stomach, liver, and intestines freed easily.  His tied-off bowels and penis slipped up through their openings and she removed his inner organs neatly in one block. </p><p>"Oh I just love to watch you work, Auntie Kim, you make it look really easy," sighed Ashley. </p><p>"Well when you've done enough of them, you kind of learn how to take them apart. No worse than wrestling a toddler out of her snow suit.  It’s a whole lot harder, though, to put them back together,” she quipped. “Seriously though, this one looks grade ‘A.’  See how marbled his meat is?"  She opened the carcass to let Ashley and Cassie get a better view. </p><p>Auntie Kim pulled on her eye protectors and picked up her large electric saw. Ashley and Cassie watched speechless as Auntie Kim methodically severed the jack’s hands and feet. Using a heavy bladed Janie knife, she removed each arm at the shoulder with the wing bone attached and laid each on the worktable.  Next, starting at the neck, she halved the carcass with her saw, cutting along side of the spine. When she had cut down to the level of the last rib, she made a transverse cut and removed the forequarters.  With Heather’s help, she wrestled each quarter to her work table. Then she extended her cut along the spine and removed the heavier hindquarters.  Soon, only that jack’s head and spine still hung from the beam.  Kim’s apron and plastic goggles were splattered with blood and small pieces of flesh. Auntie Kim set her saw aside and lifted her blood spattered goggles to her forehead.  </p><p>Faint beads of perspiration appeared on Auntie Kim’s forehead. She raised her bloody hand to wipe her brow but caught herself just in time.  She studied the heavy hindquarters on the table and flopped it over with a thump. "Now for some nice thick juicy roasts and steaks," she muttered, rallying her energy. The best steaks are taken from the muscles along the spine.”  She lifted the Janie knife and planned her cuts. </p><p>“That’s a fine jack, Cassie said with really admiration.  “You know, Ashley.  Remember those toy jacks?  I’m really sorry that I bit their little pricks off.”</p><p>Ashley tousled her cousin’s hair.  “Don’t worry about it; Cassie, you were just a baby then.  Now you’re really grown-up.”  Cassie literally glowed.  “You know what, Auntie Kim, my cold is really better now!”</p>
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